family cooking
by Trilies
Summary: Nana has taken to going to a cooking class for fun and to meet people... which has lead her to making acquaintances with a teenager apparently her son's age! Ever friendly, she tries to make him feel at home among all these older women. Really, that Kakimoto Chikusa. Such a nice, shy boy!


There's a teenage boy in Nana's cooking class.

Now, it's not that she's against boys becoming self-reliant. Quite the opposite! She still remembers how pleasantly delighted she was when her own little Tsuna first started to try and make things easier on her, almost seemingly out of the blue. He's a little clumsy still, her darling tuna fish, and has such a habit of taking his eye off of things at the wrong moment, but even the attempt had flattered her. To this day, she's still not entirely sure just what it was that got him in such a mood to try and help. The mutters she'd overheard ("How did they do this in the base all the time?" and others) hadn't really clued her into much, besides that Kyoko and Haru seem to have influenced him somehow. Well, she'd had a good feeling about those girls from the start.

So she's far from aghast that there's a boy in the weekend cooking class she attends, when everyone is home and she can take an afternoon out for herself. It's just that he so very clearly stands out. The rest of her class, maybe half a dozen of them on a good day when family matters haven't interrupted anyone too severely, are all women like her: Japanese housewives of various ages all wanting to make friends and maybe learn things to spice up the dinner table. Most of them are around the same height as her, which is to say not too far from 155 centimeters, and they all tend to smile at one another often. In contrast, the teenager practically towers over all of them at something that surely has to be over 182 centimeters. With that kind of height, the foreign structure of his face seems to stand out all the more, even as much as he seems to try and hide it behind a short bob of dark black hair. Whenever he ducks out of view, whether to leave for the day completely or simply excuse himself for a quick moment, all her cooking class friends immediately huddle together for gossip. When they try to guess at his nationality, Nana laughs breezily and makes an immediate guess of "Italian" despite the Japanese name he's going under.

Needless to say, the second he returns, everyone jumps on him for an answer (so politely of course), and he stares at them with the startled blank gaze of a cat that's suddenly been cornered in an alley. When he mutters "Italian", quickly slipping away back to his station, all her friends can't help but praise her. After all, how on earth could she have known? Nana laughs it off, says that one of her son's friends is a little Italian himself. It's easy for her, these days, to ignore the kinds of men she's seen her husband associate with. At the very least, she can put them out of her mind. That's the agreement they'd silently made to one another, so long ago, although sometimes she thinks Iemitsu forgets.

Yet with that little suspicion confirmed, Nana finds herself watching their out-of-place lanky duckling as the next couple of weekends pass. No one ever really drops him off, or comes to pick him up, she notices. Whenever he arrives, it always seems to be as if he's simply materialized out of thin air, quiet as a ghost. When he leaves, it's straight out the doors and shuffling down the street, spine hunched and his hands tucked away into his pockets. He makes a rather lonely figure that way, she reflects.

One day, as everyone is cheerfully chattering to one another before the lesson begins properly, Nana finally decides she's had enough. It's that "fussy" nature her son so bemoans, even as he never fights back when she fondly ruffles his hair. She slips away from her usual group, unnoticed and on a mission. As much as she'd like to catch the boy by surprise, however, it doesn't seem to work. From where he's been staring dully down at his rice cooker at his particular station, his gaze flicks over to her once she's near enough. He's really not a particularly emotive boy... but Nana doesn't let that phase her.

"Hello!" she greets, bubbly as ever. "You know, I don't think we ever properly met one on one, and I was thinking what a shame that is. I'm Sawada Nana." Clasping her hands together, she beams at him.

It doesn't really seem as though he's inclined to answer for a moment; he really must be the shy type. After a few seconds where she's very determinedly not moving, he finally relents and shifts his head just enough to look over at her properly. "Kakimoto Chikusa," he murmurs, name distinct no matter his quiet tone. Despite his clear accent, his pronunciation is quite clear. Then again, she supposes, perhaps it's _because_ of his accent that he's so careful to be clear. It's hard to say, when they've barely spoken before. Well, she plans to change that.

"And what kanji are a part of that?" she asks, gladly engaging in small talk, but he's already looking away from her even before she finishes speaking. In fact, he doesn't even answer. Instead, all of his attention is apparently focused, intense as a laser, on the rice cooker. A part of her wants to gently scold him for his lack of manners, but he's not her son... It wouldn't be right to do that just yet. So, biting her tongue, she instead follows his gaze. Eventually, a lightbulb goes off in her head. "Oh! Is your rice cooker not working? We can tell Wakisaka-sensei!"

That finally has Kakimoto stir, blinking his attention back to her. "That's... not the problem." The mutter leaves him slowly, even slower than how she's noticed he usually tends to speak. Then his gaze goes right back to the rice cooker, and hers follows it. A couple of seconds are needed before a memory flickers into her mind, an idle observation that she'd made during one of the lessons. It'd been him, making some rice dish or another- there's so many- and she'd noted that his mouth had twisted down ever so slightly when he'd tasted the fruits of his efforts. Could it be...?

"Ah!" She claps her hands together lightly. "Kakimoto-kun, have you never made rice before?"

Bingo. While he doesn't jolt or startle, she doesn't miss how Kakimoto's shoulders only hunch all the worse in on himself, and she could swear that there's a faintly sulky turn to his mouth. "Why?" he asks, not really answering her at all, which must mean that she's right.

Well, she knows teenage boys. Her house has kept more than a few of them by this point, although all but one aren't really hers, so to speak. It's probably not good to insult his pride any. Instead, Nana continues to beam at him. "Oh, well, I thought since you're not native to Japan, you might not know, and it's the only thing I could think of that would have you making such a scary face at your rice cooker." For a brief second, she's tempted to flick his nose or poke his cheek playfully, but Nana ultimately decides against it. Teenagers need to have a little bit of their dignity, after all. It seems to work well enough as Kakimoto thinks over her words before, still with some reluctance, he gives an admitting nod. Well, that's all she needs. "I'll help you get it just right!" she announces, and turns away on her heel to get her things before he can really tell her no.

It's... a little pushy, she knows. Frankly speaking, when she returns with her personal bag and none of the actual cooking equipment, she's half expecting Kakimoto to go completely stiff and not particularly social. It would fit how he's acted before when some of the other ladies in the group have tried to chat with him, putting in the bare minimum and sometimes not even that. Not a lot of people can deal with that sort of uncooperative personality. Yet to her surprise, he actually pays her some mind when she comes over, and actually shifts to the side so that there's more room.

"The bottom," he says quietly right as she's in the middle of straightening up again. "It always comes out too wet."

She doesn't entirely understand for around half a second, not used to someone picking up a conversation that was finished a couple of minutes ago. Yet when it clicks, she bites back a laugh even if she can't do the same for her smile. "Aaah, I see. So it's that kind of thing. Well, I know exactly what you need to do to get your rice exactly right, so let's go ahead and listen carefully to Wakisaka-sensei." His agreement isn't the most energetic thing in the world, a single dull nod, but Nana has worked with less. For starters, he's already a lot more cooperative.

In fact, Nana learns as they proceed throughout the lesson for some basic teriyaki salmon, Kakimoto is actually quite skilled with handling food as it is. It's something she's never really paid attention to before; she's always taken part in the lessons more towards the front while he's hidden away like a recluse towards the back. As she cooks right besides him, however, it's a lot easier to see how quickly and efficiently he prepares his ingredients in time with their teacher's instructions. He mixes them together perfectly and, while Nana has to show him how to fillet salmon in the way that it's done here in Japan instead of however Italy does it, his knifework is smooth and without criticism. As they get to frying their fish, she voices her surprise. "Aah, you've really been paying attention to Wakisaka-sensei's lessons, Kakimoto-kun! Or have you cooked before you began taking lessons here?"

Delicately flipping his fish to the opposite side, he glances at her from behind a slight curtain of hair. "...I'm the one who usually takes care of any cooking where I live..."

"Oooh, how responsible! No one else does any of the cooking?" Perhaps his parents are busy, she reflects. Or perhaps he only has a one. Times are changing, after all, and, even for how much it's difficult, there are a lot of parents out there that are the sole provider for their children. Nana knows that she's quite lucky with her lot in life. It's only thanks to Iemitsu that she can live such a serene existence, able to focus on family and home like she can. If it was _really_ only her taking care of her precious Tsuna, having to work a job to make ends meet... Certainly she knows there would be many times where she wouldn't be able to share a dinner with her precious son. He'd certainly would have had to learn to do such a thing on his own much earlier.

Sure enough, he gives a barely noticeable shake of his head. "He's always going off to take care of things to send us money... and the other there would just eat gum all day if he could get away with it." It's a bit of an awkward way to phrase it all, but Nana doesn't mention it. Kakimoto-kun is clearly going off of a second language; credit should be given to him for trying at all. "As for her... She's bad at it." A sigh exits him as he adds the sake, and he only continues to talk once he's put the lid over the frying pan. "So... it has to be me."

So two other boys besides himself, along with a girl. In her head, even as she's focused on her own food, Nana tries to picture it. The first person he mentioned could be his father, and the girl he mentions might be a sister of his who either is too young to cook or simply can't. Or perhaps it's the other way around. Maybe it's an older brother of his which has taken it upon himself to work hard for his beloved family, and it's his mother who is something of a floundering cook. Despite popular belief, after all, not _all_ women are wonderfully skilled in the kitchen, and Kakimoto's presence in the class shows that not all men are terribly helpless. "They must really appreciate you," she says, peering past the steam that fogs up the inside of the pan so neatly, "with how much you're working so hard for their sake."

Removing the lid off his own pan, Chikusa slides the salmon onto a plate with a careless shrug of his shoulder, and only one. "It doesn't matter if they appreciate it or not," he says simply. "Someone has to do it." Adding seasonings to the pan, he starts to put that particular bowl to the side before he pauses to warily look at her shocked face. "...What..."

"Kakimoto-kun, that's such a mature view for someone your age!" Turning up the heat on her side of things, Nana laughs. "When you graduate in a year or two, I'm sure you'll make a very lucky husband for someone~!"

In time with the sauce boiling in his pan, a faint shade of pink begins to warm up the dull color of his skin. Very determinedly, he doesn't make eye contact with her smiling face, and just focuses on the food in front of him. Content with her playful but honest teasing, Nana gives him a few moments to regain himself. Some boys get so flustered when it comes to the subject of marriage, and it pleases her to see that Kakimoto is one of those. He must have a soft soul. It's while they're taking care of the rice which has finally rested long enough and they're scooping it up that he speaks up again. "I'm... not seventeen..."

She blinks over at him. "Ha?"

"...I'm only fifteen."

Flabbergasted, her mouth falls open again, and she nearly forgets to turn off the heat for her salmon. "But you're so tall!" she exclaims. "Kakimoto-kun, how tall are you?"

"Ah..." His gaze drifts off for a moment in thought, even as his hands carefully arrange the salmon on the plate alongside the rice. "Probably... 185 centimeters... Or around that much."

Delightedly, she claps her hands together. "That's so impressive! You've been raised very well, I can tell."

"I guess..."

"So does that mean you've gone and joined a club like basketball? I can only imagine how much they'd love to have someone as tall as you~." Pausing, she takes a look at their surroundings: kitchen equipment and various housewives and mothers, all together on the weekend. "Then again, I suppose you'd be out practicing with them if that was the case..." Regular teenage boys in clubs spend so much time focusing on them, after all. She knows Yamamoto and his father, so she's quite familiar with that kind of life if only from the outskirts. Her own Tsuna is more along the lines of the 'Go Home Club' type of person. It would worry her more, with how important clubs can be for making friends and looking good for future schools and jobs... But with how many people have begun to fill up her once empty little home and the sheer amount that always seems to surround her precious son nowadays...

Well. She supposes she doesn't have to worry about anything in the end after all.

Besides, it seems like Chikusa might also be a part of the very same club, considering the way he shakes his head. "That... takes far too much energy," he sighs. "It's really troublesome..."

"Oh, I can imagine!" she says, thinking of her own busy schedule with four toddlers, a teenage boy, and Bianchi. Just getting the day to day chores can take forever sometimes, not to mention what she ever decides to do with dinner. "Clubs these days are so busy and full of work! My son has a friend of his who is in baseball, and-" Well, it's only inevitable that she gets swept up in her chatter as they begin to cook a couple of accompanying dishes Wakisaka teaches them. Chikusa doesn't participate nearly as much as she does, but few people really do when she feels like she has room to talk. Still, he's a good listener. He's politely quiet, but not ignoring her, instead glancing at her from the corner of his eyes every now and then when she says something in particular.

The next time he speaks up comes towards the end of the lesson. Nana doesn't pick up on when he does it, only that she turns to look at him again and chopsticks are in his mouth with a bowl of rice in front of him. "Ah," he says quietly, chopsticks sliding out from inbetween his teeth. "It's soft..."

Blinking at him, Nana bursts out into pleased giggles after only a second. "I told you!" she says cheerfully, putting some of her dirty tools to the side. "All you need to do is let it rest. That's the key to good cooking sometimes!"

"Leaving it alone so that it adjusts..." He doesn't seem to be talking to her so much as murmuring something to himself. He seems to be sinking into something deeper than food. A part of her wants to inquire a little more, but would that be too nosy? Even in the brief second she takes to question herself, Kakimoto looks away from his plating while their teacher browses around to look at everyone's results. "...I'll remember that for next time, then."

Ah, and there goes her chance. Well, that's fine. As much as she wants to, she doesn't need to know _everything_. "Well, I'm glad I could help then!" she manages to say, right in time for Wakisaka to stop by their station and look over everything. Clearly pleased with what she sees, she moves on with hardly too much criticisms even towards Kakimoto. It's while they're packing up their food for the day, with most not wanting to bother eating in the classroom and some wanting to show their families what they've learned, that Nana comes to a decision. Even as Kakimoto is putting away his own little bento with its food stored neatly in side (into a rather ratty backpack, Nana's keen eyes notice), she nudges her own box towards him. "Here, Kakimoto-kun! You can take this back home with you."

He stares down at her hands as if she's handed him some complex machinery instead of a simple wooden bento box. "...Isn't... this yours?" he asks, words awkward and stilted instead of only slow as he usually is.

Still insistent, she continues to nudge the box closer to him. "Oh, it's fine! It's only one box, I can always get another." It'll be a little bit pricey, maybe, to get one in such good condition and that will last, but, well, she'll be fine. It's not as if Iemitsu won't send her enough money to cover a replacement. That's how it usually is. She's no celebrity, able to afford everything in the world, yet they've managed just fine. (She feels certain that if there was anymore, it'd be more stressful, actually.)

For a few seconds longer, he stares down at the bento box with not even a little bit of a hint to what he's thinking. Eventually, slowly, he raises his hands and folds them delicately around the sides, taking such care not to touch her fingertips. From anyone else, she thinks she'd be befuddled, or maybe even offended. With Kakimoto, however, it's more as if she's dealing with a very skittish cat. She almost holds her breath until the box is completely out of her hands, and hidden away right after its much cheaper cousin in Kakimoto's backpack.

"Okay," he says, shoulders still hunched in on himself as he blinks at her. It's not quite the appropriate response, yet she doesn't have the heart to correct him. The poor boy seems to lost and befuddled; has no one ever given him something like this before? After a second, he adds some additional words. "I'll... bring it back."

Well, that will save her some nice amount of money that could go to a family dinner. Not wasting any time in doubting him, Nana only continues to smile. "Then I'll see you again next weekend!" When everyone filters out of the little building down in the shopping district, she turns her head to watch him shuffle down the street. Even now, he still walks the same slow way as he's done in all the times before that she's seen him.

Sure enough, he comes to the next set of lessons, there before everyone else as usual, and his backpack slumped down on the floor and against the side of his station. Instead of half sprawled against his counter, only half paying attention to the people coming in, he straightens up a little when Nana walks through the door. "Here," he mutters, leaning to the side and sliding his hand into his backpack. Just as told a week before, it's the bento she let him borrow and squeaky clean. Somehow, the careful attention to detail that has let not even a little bit of sauce remain touches her heart. So much work on his plate, watching over so many siblings, and yet here he is, keeping his word!

(She's already visualized the entire thing in her head.)

Holding the bento close, she giggles. "Kakimoto-kun, you're such a good boy! What a good role model you must be!" Surely the students at whatever school he goes to must look up to him- literally.

In exactly the same manner as before, Kakimoto apparently has no idea how to respond, and just looks back slowly to his station. "...I wouldn't say that..."

"And so modest too!" she continues, not one to let anyone run away from a compliment. "Well, is it alright if I cook alongside you today as well?"

All Kakimoto does is move one of his shoulders in a shrug, still apparently shy as he stares determinedly down at his cooking station. Nana takes that as agreement, and, from that day onwards, continues to work at the very same station next to Kakimoto Chikusa.

Really, he's a good boy, by Nana's estimation, and she knows quite a few teenager boys thanks to her son finally blooming into his own at Namimori Middle School. He doesn't have the wild energy of Sasagawa-kun, or Yamamoto's easy friendliness. If she had to pin him to anyone similar in her son's group of friends, Nana supposes she would say he's most similar to Gokudera-kun and hope that she isn't stereotyping anyone. They're still their own people, after all! Gokudera-kun is a lot more energetic than Kakimoto is, and a lot more carefully respectful whenever he speaks to her. In contrast, Kakimoto doesn't seem to have too much in the way of manners. He's merely quiet, and takes in details. For a long while, she feels as if he isn't really listening and is only humoring her presence at his side. Yet when she asks a off-handed question one day- "You remember what I told you about our next door neighbor, don't you?"- he gives a quiet nod and murmured response. Yes, he remembers, and yes, that's the one with the dog. It's only a little thing, but Nana has a feeling that there is a whole lot to do with Kakimoto that has to do with the little things that others would ignore in favor of the more overt. It's like with Gokudera-kun and his grades. No one would expect them, with the kind of fashion he seems to favor, but they're there. It's like that, only with everything to do about him.

Needless to say, with such a personality, it takes a good long while for her to squeeze details out of him, especially when they only ever meet on the weekends for their shared cooking class. It's almost like searching for buried treasure. She never knows when she'll stumble onto a little thing he lets slip, or if he'll be quiet and serene as any forest. Nana has to force herself to be patient; Kakimoto only becomes stubbornly quiet when he's pushed. Eventually, however, the change of habit works. Casual questions sprinkled into her stories earn more than being forcefully nosy, and the answers begin to shift out from the hollows of his silence. Kakimoto hates difficult to eat foods, and his least favorite onigiri fillings are pickled plums. He likes dogs, a fact which surprises Nana with how completely and utterly he doesn't seem like a dog person. He's so good with his hands because he does yoyo tricks so often- although this doesn't come a conversation, to be fair, but rather when Wakisaka is late and that leaves the lesson room door locked. Nana finds Kakimoto leaning against the wall outside it, a red yoyo defying gravity as it spins through the air and rolls along his fingers. When she compliments him, he only seems to deal with it a little better than the first time.

At no point does he ever bring any of his family to the cooking lessons. In fact, he doesn't even have pictures as far as Nana can tell. Perhaps he's just embarrassed about it; teenage boys can be like that. Maybe he doesn't have the right things to carry with him that could so easily fit in a printed out picture, unlike Nana's own wallet with an image for every person who has ever resided in her home. It could be just his personality. The fact of the matter is that it still leaves him seeming a little bit lonely, for all that Nana knows she must be projecting a little.

Regardless, one day, on impulse, she says, "Kakimoto-kun, you should come have dinner at my house one day!"

From where he's packing away some of the things he's made today (soba noodle salad and baked tonkatsu), Kakimoto pauses. "Don't... you have a lot of people at your house... all the time...?"

"The more people at a dinner, the merrier!" she says glibly, having found it always been true for her. A table with only herself at it is the worst; Bianchi and everyone else have made it less lonely. It takes her a second to realize something. "Oh, but I suppose you must have enough of that at home, mustn't you, Kakimoto-kun?" How silly of her to have forgotten that simple fact. If he has a large, rambunctious family of his own, then he'd probably like some peace and quiet. Then again, perhaps a change of pace would be alright? Even as she looks up to him, Kakimoto doesn't really react too much... He simply blinks down at her, seeming to struggle with coming up with a response. Well, she has sprung this upon him rather suddenly. Even as she's contemplating that, an idea hits her, and she claps her hands together a few more times. "Oh, I know. I'll make an early dinner so that you can enjoy it with my family, and then I'll have leftovers packed away for you to take to your own home!" It's the _perfect_ solution. That way, he'll be able to relax, and not have to worry about working himself to death. She's really quite proud of herself for thinking of it.

Apparently, he's hitting upon the very same line of thought, because it doesn't take long at all after that for him to nod. It's a slow nod, because so much about Kakimoto is slow and careful, but it's a nod regardless! "That... sounds good, then."

"Perfect!" Quickly, so that they don't end up forgetting that food they're waiting to cook, she hurries through her purse to pull out a pen and the back of a receipt she's kept in there for far too long. It's sacrificing itself for a good cause! "So then... this... is my address!" Setting the pen down, she turns to offer it to Kakimoto. Quietly, using only the barest minimum amount of fingertip, he accepts it. "When would you like to come? Tonight may be a little too sudden," she giggles, "but I'm sure I could manage tomorrow, if you would like! Or any other weekend. I'm sure a weekday would be much too troublesome, wouldn't it?"

His head tilts to the side, eyes practically following the motion of his head, and he gives it a bit of thought. "Yeah, that's... probably right. It would definitely be troublesome... But, tomorrow would probably be good for me."

"Oh? You really don't have anything planned for dinner tomorrow night?" She'd offered the suggestion on an excited whim, honestly. That he'd take it, well, that's a little surprising. When it's her, she often got excited for the entirety of her little mismatched family being together, allowing her to take even Tsuna out for shopping so that everyone can have a nice, big family dinner where no one is left disappointed.

Well, Kakimoto isn't her, of course. Certainly he isn't a middle aged mother, but rather a teenage school boy who surely has to take some time for himself to enjoy on the weekend! Yes, she decides as Kakimoto shakes his head slightly, that has to be it. "There's nothing... so this kind of thing... It would work out for me..."

"I don't doubt it! Then, I'll be sure to have something ready for tomorrow." It's short notice, but she's made large dinners with even less amount of time to prepare. Nana is sure it will all work out. "Hey, Kakimoto-kun, why don't you come with me after tomorrow's class is over? Unless you have anywhere else to be, of course." On one hand, it would save time, but on another hand, perhaps he doesn't want to be seen trailing around a middle aged woman like herself.

Yet he nods again, simple and only once. "That... works for me."

"Great! Then I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow~." 

* * *

Kakimoto Chikusa is sitting at his dining room table, and Tsuna doesn't know how to deal with that.

It's almost funny, or, at least, it probably would be, if happening to someone else. After all, he's dealt with so much worse weirdness ever since he was thirteen. Toddlers in cow-patterned onesies, buns willed with a gas used for martial arts, Hibari Kyoya... So what is it about a teenager his same age, just slouched in his seat, that has him abruptly stop in the doorway with his mouth gaping?

Well, he knows what it is, generally speaking, on account of how the Kokuyo group first met him, but still. It's not even been that bad, lately. Mukuro hasn't gloated and-slash-or threatened to take over his body in three months. He likes to think they're on slightly better terms now. At least, terms that don't stress him out nearly so much, which Tsuna has accepted is the best he can ask for in his lot in life. His standards aren't high, here.

Yet even as he stands there, gaping, the feeling of unreality doesn't leave, and it doesn't help that everything _around_ Chikusa is just... going on completely as normal. There's his mom, humming cheerfully as she prepares dinner way earlier than she usually does, and Reborn is also seated at the table as usual, seeming to enjoy the taste of mundanity that is apparently not exactly common when you're a forced-toddler with a reputation as the greatest hitman in the world. From the direction of the front yard, he can hear the kids' laughter as they mess around. It'd be a perfectly normal scene if not for, you know, the teenage prison escapee fiddling with chopsticks at the table.

"Uh," he says. It's not the most eloquent thing in the world, but it's enough to announce his presence. Again- _low_ standards.

Beaming brightly, his mom turns around to face him. "Tsu-kun, there you are! I'm so glad you came out of your room before dinner~. Do you remember when I said that I would be bringing over someone from my cooking classes?"

"Yeah," Tsuna says, not taking his eyes off of Chikusa. The taller teenager is still twirling the chopsticks inbetween his fingers, his gaze on Reborn. Before he met Chikusa, Tsuna never realized that someone's gaze could be both dull and incredibly focused. "I remember something like that." It's only really half a lie. At the time, he'd been a little busy wrestling a grenade out of Lambo's grip. He's... _pretty_ sure that Nana had said something at the time, but he hadn't really comprehended. It's hard to comprehend most things beyond "the grenade in a small child's hands".

"Well, it turns out he's your age~." Cheerfully, Nana turns around back to her cooking. "I hope the two of you get along alright! His name is Kakimoto-kun." The second her back is turned, one of the chopsticks suddenly leaves Chikuksa's fingers, so fast that Tsuna almost misses what's happened. Right towards Reborn's chest... if the hitman hadn't snagged it out of the air first. He looks amused, and Tsuna can't help a feeling of dread well up in the pit of his stomach. His mom continues on, completely oblivious. "Oh, I just remembered! Kakimoto-kun, you said you went to Kokuyo Middle School, didn't you?"

"Mm," Chikusa replies, in what is possibly the most non-reply Tsuna thinks he's ever heard. The remaining chopstick continues to be idly turned in his fingers.

"That's what I thought! Tsu-kun, doesn't one of your _lady_ friends go to Kokuyo too?" The phrasing of all that is enough to have Tsuna's face begin to heat up from the neck upwards, and it only turns crimson when his mom tosses a wink over her shoulder at him.

"Mom!" Chikusa is looking at him now, just from the corner of his eyes. Tsuna isn't sure he likes that. "I told you it's not that way!"

"I don't know what you're talking about~."

That's a filthy lie, and they both know it, considering how Nana has hung around pointedly every time literally any girl (barring Bianchi) has come over to visit him, and has definitely picked up on how, as of late, he's started to go red and fumble things around Chrome almost as badly as he does around Kyoko. It's bad enough when she teases him about this in general; he'd really rather her not do it near the _rest_ of the Kokuyo gang.

Before he can offer any sort of protest to this, however, his mom lets out a gasp. "Oh no! I can't believe I forgot-" Hastily undoing the ties to her apron, Nana begins to hurry out of the room. "Tsu-kun, can you entertain Kakimoto-kun? I just realized I missed something at the store, and I have to hurry and get it in time!" As usual with his life, Tsuna doesn't get a chance to object. Kitchen heat is lowered down, the apron is hung to the side, and his mom is kissing his forehead all in what seems like a heartbeat. "I'll be counting on you now that you're all grown up, Tsu-kun~. Be good, I'll be back in the blink of an eye!"

And, indeed in the blink of an eye or what feels like one, she's out the door.

For a second, he can't really bring himself to do anything, left behind in what feels like a whirlwind of nonsense. Stunned, he blinks dully at the scene that's mostly remained static before him where Reborn and Chikusa sit. The chopsticks are still twirling. Even as he's trying to recover and figure out what he can possibly say in a situation like this, Chikusa leans back in his chair. Head lolling onto his shoulder, he blinks dully at Tsuna. He doesn't say anything, but it still feels like some sort of confrontation. Face still red from his mom's teasing, Tsuna shrugs up his shoulders helplessly. "She was just teasing me!" he says, hands held up in self defense although he knows that wouldn't do anything against Chikusa's preferred weapons... Or even just chopsticks. Then again, if he's lucky, that much effort might be too much for the lanky boy.

The defense doesn't seem to really do much in swaying Chikusa's blank expression. In fact, the bloated silence between them drags out for far too long, scraping against Tsuna's nerves, before a low sigh rustles out of Chikusa's mouth. "I don't really care one way or the other," he says, quiet voice forcing Tsuna to strain his ears. Even as Tsuna's shoulders start to slump in relief, Chikusa continues after a beat. "It's Mukuro-sama who will get nosy... and possibly have objections to something like that..."

Somehow, Tsuna can't tell if he's anxious or aggravated at the news. "For someone who was trying to encourage her to be her own person," he points, hands lowering, "he sure likes to try and push himself into her life like before." At the same time that the words come out of his mouth, he can't help wonder if one of those chopsticks will go flying towards him now for the insult to Chikusa's important and treasured leader. After all, he's seen both him and Ken, bleeding and desperate on the ground, not caring how viciously Mukuro had used their bodies and only caring for that he might be safe.

Yet there's no attack, no aggravation. Chikusa merely makes a quiet hum, some form of acknowledgment, before his wrist snaps out for another chopsticks to go flying right at Reborn. The faux toddler snorts in amusement, catching it just as easily. Now that he knows what's going on and what to look for, Tsuna manages to catch this little... whatever it is. "You have as much lack of care as you did when we first ran into you," Reborn says, bringing the chopsticks together so that they can be put down on the table again. "Although at least I'll commend you for going for the larger but more sensitive targets instead of guaranteed one hits that debilitate. But you should probably stop antagonizing people if you want to live long enough for that skill to be sharpened."

One of Chikusa's shoulders twitches enough that it could _maybe_ be a shrug. If Tsuna squints. "That doesn't really matter," he says dully.

Somehow, that one simple little sentence gets Tsuna's attention, and he pauses to frown over at Chikusa with his brow furrowed faintly. It's not something he's ever really thought of before- the end goal or result for Kokuyo. So much of his time has been spent focusing on the now, because the now has always been what's most pressing for him. High school criminal escapees harassing his town, terrifying assassins coming for his life, traveling into the future, fighting with an inheritance, battle royales and aliens... They're all things which required his immediate attention. In the past, he's been able to daydream about the future of getting married, or getting a plain job that even he could do (or, perhaps, what exactly it would be liked in the quiet times as a mafia don)... But now, as he stands there staring at Chikusa, he can't help but wonder what exactly Kokuyo has ever thought of when it's come to their future. Can they imagine themselves as adults? Middle aged? Old, with wrinkles in their skin and gray in their hair? The way Chikusa had phrased those words... It sounds as if he can't even begin to imagine that kind of life.

And, Tsuna is concerned to realize, he doesn't have an easy time of doing it himself either for that group of teenagers living in the abandoned wilds.

A part of him wants to say something; it's just that he has no idea what he even _could_ say. As he's struggling to figure out the words and his own feelings, Chikusa suddenly says, "You'll have to worry about Ken, more."

Snapped out of his own brain, Tsuna blinks blankly at him a few times. "Huh?"

Already, Chikusa's finges are inching towards another pair of chopsticks. Reborn can clearly see, so he has to be letting it happen for his own amusement. "Ken. Mukuro-sama will keep out of Chrome's mind if she tells him... Probably... Although maybe not other people's... but Ken doesn't need that kind of thing." As his fingers light upon the delicate wood, his gaze flicks towards Tsuna again. "He can smell you."

Realization upon what Chikusa is insinuating hits him around that moment, and Tsuna goes bright red all over again. "I told you it's not like that!" he says, voice so high that it hits the ceiling. "He won't smell me anymore than he would smell anyone else on her!" Somehow, he can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing for him. Still, for as long as Chikusa is right here, in the room, judging him with those blank eyes of his, he'll say it's a good thing. Any other feelings can be saved for later, when he's mostly alone in his room.

Well, maybe his particular feelings regarding Chrome don't actually matter, since it doesn't seem like Chikusa believes him anyway. He only watches Tsuna's flailing with blank silence before turning his head back to Reborn. "Sure. Whatever." It's not the most encouraging response, but it's better than something blatantly negative. Another chopstick starts to twirl in his hand. Tsuna's starting to get the sneaking suspicion that him and Reborn find casual attempted murder to be more a game than, you know, attempted murder.

Now he's curious about something, however, although it takes Tsuna a moment to summon up the courage to say anything about it. "Then... does that mean Ken has a crush on Chrome?"

The words have barely left his mouth when the chopstick goes flying again, and Tsuna jolts from the sudden _SNAP_ which is Reborn flicking it away. When Tsuna looks up towards the ceiling, the weaponized chopstick is stuck in the ceiling, quivering. Immediately, he looks down again at Chikusa. The other teenager isn't scowling, _exactly_ , so why... is he getting the feeling that he is? That he's not particularly happy with the idea that Tsuna has just floated by him? Even as a part of him is still feeling a little jittery, he can't help but stare intently at Chikusa. It's so hard to read him, unlike Ken, who shows his heart on his sleeve, or Mukuro, who is almost always lying so it's best to believe the opposite of what he's saying sometimes. He's not frowning, yet there's a subtle twist to his mouth, he thinks... And then those dark eyes are flicking up to meet his, sudden and quietly intense. Without thinking, Tsuna raises his hands up defensively again.

"Ah- sorry! I shouldn't have asked!" It's none of his business anyway... especially with how volatile he knows Kokuyo in general can be.

There's still no chopstick coming his way, however, or a yoyo, or poisoned needles. Chikusa merely heaves out a sigh, and his gaze slides away once more. "That sort of thing... is just troublesome."

"That... sort of thing?"

"Romance."

From the side, Reborn's shoulders shake in a quiet laugh. "I can imagine that it would be," he says with a kind of mocking breeziness, the exact kind that says he's picked up on something and doesn't plan on telling anyone else. Tsuna shoots him a look, exasperated and not willing to say anything. Chikusa doesn't say anything either. All he does is pause his chopstick twirling, as if debating on where to throw it next. Something about the carefulness of the gesture tells Tsuna that the probable 'next place' is likely to be one of Reborn's eyes. While it's doubtful that something like that would happen to Reborn in a million years, the intent is still there.

After a second, Chikusa apparently decides that dealing with Reborn anymore is too troublesome, and those eyes turn back to Tsuna. "So."

Somehow, it feels like there's a lot more in that single word than what's been said. What is he supposed to say in reply to that? 'So what' seems like too much of a smarmy answer, somehow, or maybe that's just because of how Chikusa has been tossing chopsticks around like throwing knives. After a long drawn out moment of far too awkward silence, Tsuna swallows thickly. "So it's troublesome," he manages to get out, the words feeling more than a little weak in his mouth.

"Mm."

"...Yeah." Shoulders hunched up to his ears awkwardly, he glances around helplessly, but it's no go. The only person inside the room, and perhaps the entire house, is Reborn, and he's not making it a secret that he's watching all of this as if it's a comedy show. This would be a great moment for someone to show up... But, then again, perhaps it's a better idea to just keep things out of it. He has a sneaking suspicion that Chikusa doesn't really care about age when it comes to who is murder-able enough, or... whatever. Tsuna can't stand this kind of silence, so, after a few seconds that last far too long, he says, "So you... cook?"

It's only once the words are out of his mouth that Tsuna realizes how bizarre the scenario is. Sure, he knows about his mom's trips into town where she can interact with other people who are presumably also moms. Every time he's tried to imagine it, all he could think of were multiple of his is own mom in different hairstyles, all in the same room. To think of Chikusa, of all people, in the same setting... It's like getting a bluescreen. His brain simply can't make sense of it. Frankly, he's not sure he can imagine any of the Kokuyo Gang in the kitchen. He can barely imagine _Chrome_ in a kitchen, and that's only because he's _physically seen her in one_ with Kyoko and Haru.

On one hand, the simple question gets that chopstick spinning again. On the other, Chikusa's gaze drifts away from Tsuna once more, and he feels as if he can breathe freely. "Ah," Chikusa says in the tone of someone who'd almost forgotten how he'd ended up in his own situation, "Yeah... Sometimes."

Maybe he needs to be more blunt. Actually, no 'maybe', Tsuna is pretty sure he needs to be. "I didn't think... you were a cooking person."

"Someone needs to do it," Chikusa says blandly.

Well. It makes sense when he puts it like _that_. "I guess..." Slowly, Tsuna starts to edge around the table to one of the kitchen cabinets. For his troubles, he gets a chopstick smacking right into the side of his head, where his hair is at its least fluffy. "Ow!"

"Maman was almost done with dinner." It's Reborn. Of course it's Reborn, still armed with one chopstick in case he apparently needs anymore 'reminding'.

Tsuna gestures to the cabinets in frustration. "It would just be one sna- ow!" Aaaaand there's the other chopstick.

"Didn't she ask you to be a good host to our guest here?" Reborn asks, his voice so innocent that it loops right back around to being extremely suspicious. One of these days he'll be able to hide his sadism better. For now, Tsuna just follows the incline of his head to where he's silently gesturing at Chikusa. Despite how he's the focus of attention, the other teenager seems perfectly fine with ignoring Tsuna. That doesn't make him feel any better about being honest aloud, however. What is he supposed to say? 'Sorry, I know that's what my mom said and what manners dictate, but I seriously have no idea what to even talk about with a prison escapee and highly wanted criminal who apparently takes cooking lessons with my mom'?

It's clear that he doesn't actually have a choice, in the end, and Tsuna makes the awkward edge right back around to one end of the table. Sitting next to Reborn will just leave him open to more teasing... which leaves Chikusa on the other side, who he feels considerably more uncomfortable near. In the end, that leaves him seated on the third side of the table, at the end, inbetween both assassins. Awkwardly, he crosses his arms, hands tucked against his sides, and glances inbetween the two of them. The chopsticks are still spinning.

Chikusa likes Mukuro, Ken, and cooking, apparently. The jury is out on if he specifically cares enough about murder to have an opinion on it. He doesn't like pickled plums. This is the extent of Tsuna's knowledge about things to talk with Chikusa about, if only to dispel the tense and awkward silence hanging in the kitchen. Pickled plums? Not a great conversation topic. Murder? _Absolutely not_ a great conversation topic. The very opposite. Ken- or rather Ken's feelings on Chrome- are apparently a touchy subject. That leaves cooking, which he's already talked about and knows nothing on, and... Mukuro.

 _Cooking it is._

"So," he starts off, the word a little stilted in his mouth while his eyes are locked on the chopsticks in Chikusa's fingers, "do you like... cooking?" Chikuksa's gaze flicks back to him again, and Tsuna twitches. "Since my mom really likes cooking, which is why she decided she was going to go to those classes, even though she already knows how to cook a lot of things, so I just wanted to know if you were the same." Which is dumb, he realizes in hindsight as his mouth runs on autopilot. Chikusa already told him why he cooks. "Or is it just for, uh, practical reasons...? As you said before?"

For a second, he's not sure he's going to get an answer. The quiet stretches out far past the line of 'uncomfortable', leaving him full of awkward nervous energy that wiggles out in the form of him fidgeting. Right as he's about to try and change the subject, if only to fill the air with some sort of sound, Chikusa breaks through himself. "Practical." One of his shoulders rises up in such a minuscule way that it takes Tsuna a few seconds to realize that it's the most minimal effort shrug that can possibly exist. "I guess it's not bad... It's sort of calming."

Huh. Tsuna slowly begins to relax. So even Chikusa has things he likes to do, although it's hard to imagine him needing to 'calm down' when he's already apparently in a perpetual state of calm. but it just proves that even with his background and the people he hangs out with, he's still-

"When you think of it," Chikusa continues quietly, "it's sort of like making poisons... just... more socially acceptable."

Nevermind, everyone at Kokuyo are still a bunch of absolute freaks, he takes back everything he might have thought before. "Oh," Tsuna says weakly. There is literally nothing else he can say to that, besides a lot of muffled screaming into his hands. He'd ask _why are you like this_ save for the fact that he knows why exactly. Not only does that knowledge not really help, but it honestly makes him a little depressed, so it's doubly unhelpful. Maybe he should just... move on. "Even baking?" Or, well, move on as in a 'step on', which isn't much moving on at all.

At least that seems to draw Chikusa into a thoughtful silence again, his chin nudging down against his chest. "...Less so baking," he answers after a little while, although a much quicker response than his last one to Tsuna. "But we... don't do that much..."

Chikusa's words always seem like they're trailing off, somehow. Regardless, this time something seems different, and Tsuna stares intently at Chikusa's face without really realizing it. "Do you... wish they would?" That dull gaze, which had been trailing away slowly, snaps back to him again, and Tsuna once more raises his hands up defensively. "I was just- wondering! If there was anything in particular, maybe, you'd thought about making?" He hadn't, but it's the only thing he can think to say.

At least it seems acceptable enough for Chikusa, who starts to look away again. "...Cakes..."

Tsuna blinks a few times. "Cakes?"

"...Those fat... breakfast cakes..."

Having never considered himself particularly quick on the uptake, it takes a little bit of puzzling before it hits him. Right, Japanese isn't his first language, as if the Italian accent wasn't more of a clue, so then he must be referring to- "You mean those ricecooker pancakes?"

Chikusa's chin stays tucked against his chest, mouth moving silently, and Tsuna this time has a pretty good idea of what he's trying to do. Reborn watches on in amusement, waiting also just as patiently. Eventually, Chikusa raises his head enough to give a nod. "Yeah... The ricecooker pancakes. Those..."

"You could just ask-" Even as he's starting to give the suggestion, there's the sound of the front door clicking open, and his mom's shoes stepping past.

"Okay, I'm back~!" His mom's sing-song voice bounces through the halls, bright and bubbly enough to dispel all of the previous awkward tension that's been ruling in her absence. With a small grocery bag resting in the crook of her elbow, she breezes back in with a smile. "Thank you for watching over everything and making our guest feel at home, Tsu-kun!" Her hand ruffles through his already messy hair, gone before he can reach up to swat at it. "Alright, I got the last special ingredient, so dinner should be done soon! I promise I won't keep you all waiting!"

Nothing but silence comes from Chikusa's side of the table. Even his chopstick has stopped spinning. "Mom, you always say any ingredient of yours is special," Tsuna says, taking his eyes off of the other teenager now that it's clear that a ""friendly"" ""game"" of murder won't be happening again anytime soon.

"That's because any ingredient handled by Maman is special," Reborn says smugly, earning Nana giggling and waving him off. All Tsuna can really do is send the faux-toddler assassin a dead-eyed stare. He can't say anything to _this_ , either, because he's pretty sure his mom would scold him for... something about telling off his teacher for flirting with his mother, especially when his teacher looks like he belongs in a kindergarten.

Sometimes, this is the real worst part of dealing with Reborn as a teacher who lives in his house. He's a horrible little gremlin with the body to prove it, while still saying things that no kid should actually say, but everyone who doesn't know just waves it off as kids being kids. He's pretty sure there's a Greek myth to describe his current situation, but Tsuna can't for the life of him recall what it is. All he knows about Greek mythology is what shows up in the occasional anime, which isn't the... most reliable source for stories from foreign lands. Either way, the best thing to do is just to let it lie while letting his teacher know how quietly he's judging him. All that matters now is that his mom has returned, and that Chikusa waits quietly, still.

Honestly, he's an almost unobtrusive presence in comparison to everyone else in Tsuna's house. All he does is sit in place, eyes tracking whatever starts to move. That part is a little unnerving, it can't be denied, but, hey... He doesn't make any threats about kidnapping his body, or eating him, or beating him up. That's basically a 'win', of sorts, and Tsuna finds himself able to ignore it easily, especially when Lambo comes rushing in and all his attention has to go to watching over the toddler so that he doesn't accidentally break something through explosives or otherwise. I-pin at least is a help there, constantly cutting him off when he tries to make off with a snack when he isn't supposed to and her loud voice always letting Tsuna know where Lambo will run before he does it. All of it is so noisy and exhausting that he doesn't realize for a few minutes that anything is missing... At least, not until he has a squirming Lambo tucked underneath one arm and he starts to cart the young boy out of the kitchen.

"Ugh, seriously, stop kicking like that!" He leans his head out of the way of a flailing hand. "Mom said not until dinner was ready, so just-" That's around the time he turns past the corner of the doorway and almost right into Fuuta. "Whoa-"

Hands dig into his shirt, tugging him further down the hall and towards the stairs, before he can say anything much more than that. His feet stumble clumsily against the wood as he's pulled, but he doesn't protest. Rather, Tsuna's gaze is locked right onto the distressed expression contorting Fuuta's face. He's not crying, not yet at any rate, but his eyebrows are drawn tightly together and his mouth is pulled into a grimace. "Crybaby-!" is halfway of Lambo's mouth, and Tsuna smacks his hand over it before anything else can be said. Maybe it's just because he's tired of Lambo's teasing right now, or maybe it's because that look on Fuuta's face is too concerning for any messing around to be tolerated.

Fuuta tugs him all the way to the front door before stopping, and Tsuna takes the time to finally lower Lambo down onto the ground. "Listen," he says, scrambling for some sort of distraction. "Go upstairs and play some of my video games before dinner is done, okay?"

 _That_ sure gets the boy's attention, and Lambo stares up at him with wide eyes. "I can really play them?" he asks. That question alone is enough to make Tsuna start second guessing himself... but, well, he's already made the offer, and Lambo will throw a tantrum if he goes back on his word now. Besides, he really does have to talk to Fuuta. Ignoring the slight pit of dread in his stomach, Tsuna nods.

"Yeah, you can play one." Even if Lambo will conveniently ignore that, and just mix up all of his games in different cases... As Lambo gives a whoop and rushes up the stares, Tsuna turns to call over his shoulder. "I-Pin! You can go upstairs into my room to play games!" That's really the best backup he can give... Even as he turns his attention back to Fuuta, he can hear excited Chinese rattling off behind him, followed by the sound of tiny light footsteps rushing up the stairs. Honestly, he's not paying attention, and he knows, judging by the look on his face, that Fuuta isn't either. Only when the sound of footsteps upstairs and his mom's bustling around the kitchen can be heard past the silence does Tsuna speak up to him again. "Hey, Fuuta... Are you okay?"

For a second, the boy just stays frozen in place before, so suddenly that it's almost startling, he shakes his head rapidly. "Big brother..." Yet he doesn't say anything past that, and it takes Tsuna a moment to realize, with how he's looking back towards the kitchen, what the problem is.

Well. Crap. It's been so long- at least, it feels like it's been forever since that warm school day when his life had be flipped onto its head from bewildering situations to something that was truly life or death. With Xanxus and the Varia hunting them all down, or that trip into the future, meeting the Shimon Family, dealing with Checkerface... So much has happened in such a short amount of time for him that how they first met the Kokuyo gang seems easy to forget when everything else is happening.

But, then, it can't be so easy for Fuuta. He shouldn't have forgotten that, either.

Gently, he reaches up to rest his hand on top of the younger boy's head. "Is it... It's because Chikusa is here, isn't it?" A simple nod is the answer to his question, and Tsuna lets out a long breath. Right. It's not exactly normal for someone to forgive a person who has harmed them so severely- kidnapping and mind control and who knows what else Fuuta had to deal with while under Mukuro's eye. Tsuna knows he's done so... but even he's not entirely sure that he can say he's done it out of the goodness of his heart, or anything. It's more that, the enemy of his enemy is his friend, or however that saying goes, and he'd been in too desperate straits to refuse any sort of help during situations such as Mukuro fighting for him on behalf of the Mist Ring, or Xanxus in some future coming to back him up. Even Byakuran he doesn't truly understand, but he's not trying to kill him, and he took a blow for him during that messed up battle royale, so what more can he really ask for, really?

But Fuuta can ask more. As he looks down at the tense kid standing before him, fingers still loosely curled into his shirt, he realizes that Fuuta _should_ ask more. He's already been on the run from almost everyone else in the world; why should he have to suffer that sort of thing and worse? Gently, Tsuna starts to pat his head. "You can, uh..." It hits him that he's never really dealt with this kind of thing before, and he has no idea how to even remotely deal with it. "You can shake or nod your head as an answer? You can keep doing that, is that okay?" He really hopes it is, because he's not sure if he has any other ideas rattling around in his skull.

Fortunately for him, Fuuta doesn't appear to have any problems with it either, judging by the way he nods his head after an uncertain minute. Thank goodness. Letting out another breath, Tsuna takes a minute to come up with a suitable enough question to continue on with their almost one-sided conversation.

Well, there's always the obvious one, he guesses. "Is it because of when Mukuro captured you?" A nod. Well, that was kind of an obvious answer, but that's fine, right? He can work with that. It's just a lead up anyway, Tsuna tells himself. He's doing fine if it's just a lead up, right? "Did Chikusa hurt you then?" This time, Fuuta's nod isn't quite as quick, and Tsuna can recognize the uncertainty in the way he nods. It's as good as a 'kinda' would be if spoken. So Chikusa kind of hurt him, but didn't... What's that mean? Oh- Right. Another obvious answer. "Did Chikusa use, uh... those yoyos of his?" Yeah, that's right. He can tell solely by the way Fuuta grimaces before the nod ever even happens.

That's... Tsuna has to bite back a shudder, although he's sure his expression is doing something to show his distress at imagining that sort of thing. When he thinks about it, his knowledge about Chikusa's skillset is also pretty low... Definitely the lowest out of the entire Kokuyo Gang. Mukuro loves to show off, so there's never been any doubt about what he could do even when he had Tsuna on the ropes, and he guesses Ken just loves to bounce inbetween his different Channels. But Chikusa? Chikusa has only had his one trick in comparison, but there are a lot of poisons in the world, aren't they? Chemicals, and animals, and plants- all different poisons and he's only ever seen Chikusa use the one. That single poison had put Gokudera down onto the ground in an instant. Same for Lancia, much older and stronger than any of them had really been. Is it really such a stretch of the imagination to think that Chikusa has even more hidden away somewhere? Poisons or drugs that could just knock someone out instead of killing them, if that's what he thought he had to do, or something that could even mess with someone's head before Mukuro came in to ruin it even more?

When he thinks about it like that... "Was... Chikusa the one to catch you?"

A nod.

No wonder Fuuta is so twitchy around him... Tsuna had always assumed Chikusa to be the easiest to ignore out of the entire group, but that can't be the same for someone who's had to be caught by him. He knows how ruthless and determined Chikusa can be. If there's one image of Chikusa that stands out starkly because of only him, not Mukuro or Ken, then... it would have to be the one where Tsuna first saw him, singed and bleeding but with eyes that ignored all of that to focus purely on him. Fuuta is probably one of the few people living around to know what it feels like to have that stare on him, too.

Then there's really only one thing to say. The idea of going through with it makes him feel twitchy, ready for scolding, but he can't _not_ offer it. "Do you want me to go tell Mom that we can't have dinner tonight, then? Not with him?"

To his surprise, Fuuta shakes his head to _that_ , and Tsuna pauses, blinking. No? Maybe he's just worried about disrupting something, when his mom is so cheerful and excited about it, oblivious to anything deeper. "Do you want to ask if we can take our plates up to my room, and eat there?" Fuuta pauses only to give another shake of his head, leaving Tsuna officially stumped. If he's scared of Chikusa, but doesn't want to tell him to go, and doesn't want to avoid him... Then what _does_ he want? Could it be... Nah. It can't. But what if maybe?

There's only one way to be sure, and Tsuna glances back at the kitchen before down to Fuuta again. "Do you... want to go see him? While I'm there?"

And there's the nod.

Tsuna lets out a slow breath from inbetween his teeth. It's not the answer he would have expected in a hundred years, but he guesses that goes to show what he knows. He can't entirely understand why Fuuta would go along with it... but whatever makes him feel better, and prevents a disaster happening. Pushing himself up to his feet, he watches as Fuuta's fingers slowly uncurl from his shirt only to find Tsuna's offered hand a few seconds later. He guides the younger boy down the hall, ears straining to the sounds of the kitchen. His mom is still chatting away, not a care in the world, and there doesn't seem to be any sounds of chopstick exchanges... When he peeks into the kitchen area, it's the exact same scene that he'd left behind. If Chikusa had noticed Fuuta peering in on him earlier, he apparently hasn't reacted, and he doesn't react now even as Tsuna awkwardly stands in the doorway with Fuuta peeking out behind his waist. His mom is too preoccupied with her cooking to really step in at all, which just... leaves him there. Standing. Quietly.

If he's honest, it just _feels_ like it takes a longer than it does for something to happen, and that "something" happens to be Fuuta's wobbly voice slinking uncertainly through the air. It's Italian, not Japanese, and Tsuna is so caught off-guard that he can't even apply his not-even-beginner's-level knowledge to it in time. Honestly, just thinking that is kind of embarrassing, because, even though it takes him a moment, he realizes that the Italian sounds a little clunky coming out of Fuuta's mouth, too. Is it because he's a child, because he's scared, or something else entirely?

Over at the table, Chikusa pauses in his staring contest against Reborn, and his head rolls lazily against his shoulders to stare over to where Fuuta is still mostly hiding. His eyes are still worryingly blank, devoid of anything that might help someone figure out what he's thinking, least of all Tsuna or Fuuta... but at least it's not that intense stare that Tsuna can still remember. His Italian rolls out of his mouth the same way that every bit of him moves- slow and lazy, quiet. It's a lot easier to make out, although Tsuna can't really understand him either. All he can make out is that he's addressing it to Fuuta, ignoring Tsuna's presence entirely.

Perhaps it doesn't matter what Tsuna can and can't understand, however. All that matters is that _Fuuta_ seems to understand it, his grip easing up from where his little fingers had been digging into the back of Tsuna's hand. Before he can say anything, or Tsuna can ask, his mom is turning away from the stove with some wide eyed blinks. "Oh, my! Fuuta, was that _you_ speaking just now?" Putting down a plate at the table, she immediately comes over to kneel before him. Her smile could light up an entire city. "I thought I was imagining things for a moment! But you're just such a smart boy instead!"

If Chikusa's words, whatever they'd been, hadn't been enough to ease Fuuta up before, well, Tsuna's mom praising him has certainly done the job. Blushing in embarrassed delight, he grins up at her. "Thank you, Maman."

For all that his mom is smiling down at Fuuta like he's the best thing in the whole world, Tsuna isn't particularly surprised when she looks up to him with a sigh. "Now if only you could do so well on your English tests, Tsu-kun..."

Yep, it's this again. Tsuna waves it off, only a little exasperated. "I'm telling you, it's not a big deal, Mom..."

"I disagree," Reborn pipes up from the dinner table, where he's been observing everything in the kitchen. "But you don't have to worry, Maman. I've been tutoring him nonstop to make sure that his grades go up again." The way he grins as he says that makes Tsuna's stomach sink with dread. Oh no. That's right. It's tutoring night, and tomorrow he has a test. He knows that his look of panic only sates Reborn's troll nature, but it's not like he can keep the expression off his face.

Missing out on all the nonsense that surrounds her life as usual, his mom clasps her hands together in delight. "I know I can count on you, Reborn-kun!"

On the bright side, if he really does get a passing grade on the English test tomorrow, that _also_ might sate Reborn's trollish tendencies (doubtful) and definitely make his mom happy enough to ease up on him for a while. He guesses he'll just have to try. At any rate, all of the reasons don't really matter in comparison to how Fuuta is starting to smile again, at ease and relieved. Tsuna will have to ask him later what exactly it is that Chikusa said to him to make him do such a 180...

Later being not now, because now his mom is standing up and smiling to him. "Well, dinner is almost ready, so will you go tell everyone else, Tsu-kun? I think Bianchi said she'd be home late tonight, so it's only Lambo and Ipin!"

"Uh, sure, I can do that." He glances over her shoulder at where Chikusa is sitting, but he's stopped looking at him or Fuuta. Instead, he's just letting his hand rest, perfectly still on the tabletop. Well, he guesses that is the best thing they can ask for from someone like him. With Fuuta in tow, he makes his way upstairs, fetching both of the kids from his video games. They've hardly made it that far, only fought a couple of monsters, and yet Lambo still protests up until Tsuna reminds him that his mom has made delicious food. Kids can have unbelievably short attention spans. Times like this, with Lambo racing out the door and down the stairs yelling while I-pin yells back at him to not hog everything, he's thankful.

Dinner with Chikusa at the table should be more awkward than it ends up being. That's what Tsuna thinks, anyway. He's a prison escapee who Tsuna knows could poison all of them when they're not looking, who's assaulted his friends, and yet... Honestly, once he gets over his initial jittery nerves, he forgets Chikusa even exists. There's too much to focus on: Reborn's teasing, his mother's cheerful inquiries into his school-life, Lambo's constant attempts to steal his food. Chikusa doesn't do any of that. In fact, it seems like Chikusa is doing his best to just disappear from being seen at all. The only times Tsuna remembers he even exists is when he bumps into Fuuta one way or another, and has to think about why the younger boy is sitting so near to him tonight all over again.

But other than that... He's a ghost.

A ghost who eats _really freakin' fast_ , his chopsticks clinking against his plate as he sets them down before even _Lambo_ has devoured more than half of his food. "I'm done," he says quietly to Tsuna's mom, voice almost lost in the cacophony that is their family dinners.

Blinking in surprise, Nana looks over to him and presses a hand to her cheek. "Oh, you finished so quickly!" Immediately, she's scooting her chair back and popping up onto her feet without a second's hesitation. "Hold on, Kakimoto-kun, and I'll get you the bento for the rest of your family!"

Hearing Chikusa be called 'Kakimoto-kun' is still such a bizarre thing to hear that it takes Tsuna a belated second to take in the rest of what his mom is saying. "Wait," he says, late enough to be awkward. "Family...?"

From where she's gathering up some of their bento boxes into a bag, his mom beams back at him. "That's right! It turns out Kakimoto-kun is the one who helps with dinner the most at his house, so I thought I'd send him back home with some things so that no one felt left out at his house~. Our table is so full already, so I'd really have to make some plans for that!"

Chikusa's family. In other words... Under the focus of Tsuna's wide eyed stare, Chikusa doesn't exactly deny anything that Nana has said. Instead, he just gets up out of his own seat to patiently wait near the wall.

Well, there's that dread feeling sinking back into his stomach again, and all at the thought of Mukuro Rokudo, Ken Joshima, Fran, and M.M. _also_ joining his family table. Tsuna goes a little pale. He can only imagine the chaos. He can definitely imagine the rest of his social circle joining and everything getting worse. What would Gokudera _alone_ do? So horrified at the mental image playing in his mind, he doesn't even notice or care when Lambo steals from his plate.

Oblivious to the horror story his mind is conjuring, his mom just hands the bento over to Chikusa with a smile and directs the same look over to him. "Hey, Tsu-kun, while I watch over the table, can you escort Kakimoto-kun out? I'm sure you two get along so well!"

From across the room, Tsuna meets Chikusa's blank stare. Sure. Get along. Right. _Sure_.

There's no point in arguing with his mother, however, especially when she's already fussing over a mess on I-pin's face. Stiff and uncertain, Tsuna accompanies Chikusa out of the kitchen and into the hall. The front door honestly isn't a far journey or anything. It takes maybe a minute to get there, Chikusa shuffling silently behind him. It's only when Chikusa is tying his shoes back on, the bag of bento besides him, that Tsuna finally gets it in him to speak up. "So, uh..." Chikusa's fingers don't even stop at the sound of his voice, but he still feels like the other boy is staring at him instead of at his shoelaces. "Can I ask... what you said, exactly, to Fuuta?"

Somehow he's not particularly surprised when no answer comes immediately. Instead, he has to wait patiently before a breath rustles out of Chikusa. "Oh... That." Moving onto his next shoe, he does the bare minimum of a one-shouldered shrug. "I just said... he was useless now."

Tsuna knows that most of Kokuyo isn't particularly nice. He knows that, in fact, they're kind of dickish even on good days, to people they actually like. And yet, somehow, he wasn't expecting _that_ to be the answer, for numerous reasons. His brain shuts down for a hot second, leaving him staring with his mouth slightly agape while Chikusa continues tying his shoes. It's only when the other boy starts to rise up onto his feet with a faint sway does he snap out of it. "You really said that?" he asks, brain still trying to piece together how that could in any way, shape, or form have been reassuring to Fuuta.

While he doesn't frown, Chikusa's lips draw together thinly, and Tsuna suspects that's as much as he's ever willing to go. "...I hate... repeating myself." Well, he guesses that's a fair point. Left standing in place like an idiot, Tsuna watches Chikusa gather the bag Nana put together for him again and turns to head out the door without anything else said. With someone like him, even if he was as Japanese as his name presents itself, Tsuna guesses that Chikusa would always be that way.

Still, at least one of them should say something, and Tsuna forces himself to do it as the door swings open. "Hey, um... Thanks?" Blinking, Chikusa turns his had back to look at him in silent question. "For... Not starting anything. Or poisoning anyone. Things like that."

Another slow blink. "That... would have been too much trouble. Do you always give thanks for that kind of thing...?"

"Ha..." With a kind of exasperated and tired expression that's not really a smile, Tsuna gestures somewhere near his hip. "I try to keep my expectations low with all the people I know..." At least, he's been trying to when grenades and dynamite are a regular factor in his day to day life. It almost sort of helps.

Either way, Chikusa doesn't react much more than that. He just stares at Tsuna a while longer before wordlessly turning away, closing the door behind him. For a second or two, he stays right there where he is at the entrance, wondering if he should bother doing anything else. It would just be creepy to stand there watching Chikusa leave, right? His decision is made for him when he hears Lambo and Fuuta's voices raise in argument and, with a sigh, he turns around to make his way back to the usual life he's found for himself. 

* * *

"Food!" Ken yips excitedly, bounding over on all fours to snatch a bento out of Chikusa's hand. He lets it go easily, not wanting to lose any fingers to his partner's exuberance. The rest he leaves to the side, for whoever wants to take one, and shuffles over to some of the bowling alley seats so that he can drape himself across them. A quick look around shows that it's only Chrome, Fran, and Ken still around... Who knows where M.M. has gone to, and Mukuro...

Well. That's fine, he tells himself, and allows his head to roll back against his seat.

The Sawada household had far too many people in it as it was. The quiet is fine.


End file.
